Dreams of Flame
by FlamingWolf
Summary: Seperated at the factory, Amon and Robin each think they have killed the other. Multichaptered.R&R.
1. Prologue

The young huntress sat in the noisy classroom, her green eyes sweeping the page in front of her as she desperately struggled to memorize the vocabulary before the quiz. Lightly she rubbed the eye that held the new contact lens, lamenting her still-failing eyesight. At least the STN-J wouldn't think she'd flown to the States. They hadn't known that English was as natural to her as her native Italian.  
She didn't look as she had a short year ago. Her black watch still looked the same, as did her well-fitting, well-worn boots, but the loose t- shirt and tight jeans were drastically different from the "gothic gowns" she had worn, creating a very simple disguise. She further added to the effect by tying her hair back in a high ponytail as opposed to her signature style.  
She had been taught well the art of disappearing by her beloved mentor.  
Her hands cold, she trembled as she heard the high school Spanish teacher order books away. Numbering her paper, she translated the vocabulary down to number fifteen.  
La fábrica.  
The Factory.  
Involuntarily, she whimpered as she remembered...  
  
The building was in flame, and to all appearances they were trapped.  
"Never mind that. Go now," The dark man with her commanded. "You can slip down that corridor and try to find an escape. There is a file that I need to ensure doesn't survive."  
She hesitated, and for the first time in her memory, he raised his voice to her.  
"Damn you witch, GO!"  
His intuition was as correct as always, and she wiggled through a window to the outside at the end of the hallway. She heard running footsteps behind her, and looked back to see her superior coming towards the window. She stepped aside for him, just as a ceiling beam fell flaming onto his back.  
"Robin!" He yelled, motioning for her to run, as the window exploded outward...  
  
"Robin!" The teacher's voice snapped through her flashback as the tears streamed down her face. The rest of the class looked scared as the sixteen-year-old ex-huntress fell to her knees sobbing as sparks shown around her eyes and hair.  
"Amon," She called in her misery. "Oh, Amon..."  
  
***  
  
...Flame and exploded glass leapt towards and surrounded the girl as she stood staring at him through the opening. He screamed her name again, and again, trying to get her to answer, trying to assure himself that she was alive...  
"Robin!" He screamed yet again, sitting up. The sweaty sheet in an empty apartment twined tightly around him as he sat there. His back ached under the scars of healed burns. He gripped his head tightly between his hands as he moaned.  
"Oh, gods, Robin. I killed you..." 


	2. Selfcondemnation

The girl stood outside the door, her mind in a whirl as she listened to the conversation inside the office.  
"Sir, I can assure you that she has complete control over every aspect of her craft!" Amon's voice sounded uncharacteristically emotional, passionate even, though his words were carefully contained. "Huntress Robin is one of the best on my team, and she has been as loyal to this organization as I."  
"Be that as it may," The inexorable voice said, as Robin gasped and tensed. "She is a witch, a craft user. One of those you dispose of on a daily basis. She is a danger to you, and to everyone involved. Shoot her. Take her to the Factory. You have your orders."  
"Sir!"  
"Amon, I have known you since you were a child. I know. So will everyone else."  
"With all due respect, that's blackmail, sir."  
"Kill her immediately."  
The silence stretched a bit too long, and Robin knew the outcome. She dropped the coffee cup she had been holding and ran, ignoring the sound of the shatter. The door crashed open, and a few strides later her mentor had her wrist in an iron grip.  
"Robin, you are a fool." He told her, propelling her down the hall before him. Michael looked up as they passed, and seemed shocked.  
"Amon, what..."  
"Mission from upstairs. I only need Robin's assistance." He ignored Michael's stare at the grip he held, and pulled her out of the building, shoving her into the car. He was as silent as normal, and she was tempted to jump out at the next light...if she hadn't seen him lock the door, that was.  
Again, he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her, although this time it was out of the car. She trembled at the building before her, and once inside, even Amon seemed outraged by some of the things he saw. He led her into what appeared to be an office, and glanced through some of the papers on the desk. He dropped them as if they had suddenly caught fire, then turned, pulling out his orbo gun and aiming it right at her. She tensed, and then closed her eyes. A second later, she heard it return to his pocket, and strong arms encircled her.  
"The entire organization is corrupt. I want these files destroyed. I'm getting out of here, and I suggest you run as well."  
She realized that his hold wasn't an embrace when he pulled away, with his coat tied tightly around her. Her flesh crept as she felt the orbo near her skin, and she shuddered. She forced her voice to remain steady as she answered,  
"Aren't we supposed to be a team? Let me help you."  
He hesitated, and then nodded. He reclaimed the gun from the pocket of the coat, leaving her with the vial of protection. Together, they ran down the hall.  
Heat was building. She began to panic as she realized that there were feet besides theirs running in the hallway. She could hear shouts, accusations. The word "witch!" burned in her mind.  
The corridor in front of them burst into flame, just as Amon fired his handgun over his shoulder at their pursuers. The building was afire, and to all appearances they were trapped.  
  
"Never mind that. Go now," The dark man with her commanded. "You can slip down that corridor and try to find an escape. There is a file that I need to ensure doesn't survive."  
  
She hesitated, and for the first time in her memory, he raised his voice to her.  
  
"Damn you witch, GO!"  
  
His intuition was as correct as always, and she wiggled through a window to the outside at the end of the hallway. She heard running footsteps behind her, and looked back to see her superior coming towards the window. She stepped aside for him, just as a ceiling beam fell flaming onto his back.  
  
"Robin!" He yelled, motioning for her to run, as the window exploded outward...  
  
Robin sat up, her eyes red, and realized her pillow was soaked yet again with the tears of another night of sorrow. She had lost control. It was the only explanation. Fires did not just randomly start around a fire- craft user. She trembled, as her mind once more played through the events, shuddering as she wished she could banish the scene from her mind...  
It's my fault. I know I lost control. If I hadn't been so afraid, I wouldn't have used my craft and Amon wouldn't be...oh, God, I can't even think it! She thought desperately. Wearily, she got up, made a cup of coffee, and contemplated her empty apartment.  
  
***  
  
Amon walked slowly into the building in which his entire life seemed to be focused. The doctors had given him permission after a full (unnecessary, he had growled) year of recovery from the burns. He felt stiff and as though his twenty-six years were closer to ninety.  
His eyes closed momentarily as he typed in the familiar coding, and he wished he could just once more hear a soft, feminine footstep coming up the hall behind him, accompanied by the smell of soap, leather, and Maxwell House.  
The door to the offices opened, and he had to choke back a cry at the sight of the small leather gloves that lay next to a pair of glasses on the table. Apparently, he had made some slight noise, for Michael looked up, and then jumped to his feet.  
"Amon! Finally! We've heard nothing from the upstairs and everyone has been really worried, since we had rumors that you were in the hospital. What happened? Where's Robin?" He asked in a rush, his face lighting up at the sight of his superior.  
"Dead," Amon answered shortly, and dropped into his old chair and started up his own computer. Just one message winked onto the screen.  
As soon as you return to your duties, report. That was all that the brief said. He rose and walked out, ignoring Michael's expression as he had on that so long ago day...  
  
He stared at his commander in shock, not registering what the man had just said. Kill Robin? Using that particular bit of blackmail to achieve his goals? How could this be possible from the organization he had dedicated his life to? Something shattered in the hallway beyond, and Amon knew that Robin had been listening. She had been watching him a lot, recently, and it seemed that she was worried about him for some unknown reason. He hadn't expected her to eavesdrop, though! In a heartbeat, he had made up his mind, and was somehow out of the office without realizing it, following her fleeing form. He caught her, and could somehow never remember the intervening moments- minutes!- between catching her wrist and pulling an orbo gun on her. He only knew that there was a file that had to be destroyed lying on that desk, and that she would die if the news on it returned to headquarters. He wrapped his coat around her, only thinking of getting the girl to safety. She deserved better than a cold shot of orbo and experimentation on her body. He found that he pitied Robin, cared about what happened to her. He saw the electrical short, saw the machinery tear away from the wall as he silently shot it, trying to create a distraction to be able to get her out. Flames appeared around them both. Blindly, he ran back, and for the first time in years, allowed his secret to erupt, destroying that file with a gust of cold wind out of no where. He hated witches. He hated himself. He was somehow near the window, and he could see Robin on the other side, urging him on, trying to encourage greater speed out of him. He stumbled, and a lash of agony knocked him to the floor. He writhed, trying to signal for Robin to leave. He knew that he screamed something. Blinding flash, and the window exploded. She disappeared, and he screamed for her over and over again. He was dying, as the fire tore into his back, but the physical pain was nothing, next to the anguish in his mind. He had killed Robin. Because of him, she was dead. Congratulations, STN-J; mission accomplished.  
  



	3. An assignment

Amon knocked at the door and opened it upon confirmation. The man had not changed any in the past year, and his voice was the same as he said,  
"Report. There were two bodies, and neither of them was the witch. How did this fire start, and where is she?"  
"She is dead, sir," Amon answered, with his usual lack of emotion. "And as to the fire, what did you expect when you sent me to kill a fire- craft user? Robin died when a window exploded and she was caught in the shrapnel." Inwardly, his mind spun, as he realized he was pinning all of the events of that night on the young huntress. How could he be standing here, calmly handing all of the blame onto the corpse he had fought so hard to save?  
"Ironically enough," The man said, handing Amon a brief, "your next assignment is very similar to the one you last received. We have had word of a young fire-craft witch in a small town in the United States. I expect you to take care of it."  
"Yes, sir." Amon affirmed.  
"And if it is the same girl you claim to have killed, do your job properly this time."  
"Understood sir," Amon turned to leave the office, but stopped cold as the next words washed over his consciousness.  
"And Amon, if you use your wind-craft one more time, we will be forced to terminate you as well. I really don't want to have to order your death."  
'How could he have known?' Amon's mind asked, as he stepped into the hall. 'I only used it twice: my first assignment, and then to destroy that file...oh, gods, he knows. He knows I betrayed the organization to try to help Robin. My death order is as good as signed...'  
  
***  
  
"She seems normal enough the rest of the time," The teacher told the school's psychiatric nurse. "I just don't know what happened."  
"Send her in," The nurse replied, tired of high school melodramas, and assuming this was more of the same. Robin shyly stepped in at the teacher's beckoning, and looked at the woman.  
"What happened in that Spanish class yesterday?" The nurse asked. Robin unconsciously drew herself up into the pose and mannerisms she had used when reporting on a hunt for the organization.  
"I am ashamed to say, ma'am, that I fell asleep in class, and had a nightmare."  
"Of what manner?"  
"A bad memory..." Robin really didn't want to elaborate on the subject. The nurse sensed that she would get no more from the girl, and sighed.  
"I would like you to do me a little favor, Robin. I understand you like to write."  
"Yes, ma'am."  
"I'd like it if you were to write an interpretive poem and leave it on my desk or in my box. You may write on any topic of your choosing."  
"Yes, ma'am."  
Robin turned and slowly left the office. The nurse turned to the teacher. "Ms. Grecius, I believe that my first opinions were wrong. That is a very self-possessed young lady, and she has suffered some trauma recently.  
  
***  
  
Robin sat, the paper blank before her. She had no idea of what she intended to write. For the first time in her life, the paper was blank, and so was her mind. She leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes. The candle light flickered across her eyelids, and trembling, she sat bolt upright with a sob, and her pen flew across the paper.  
  
***  
  
Remember, and remember Fires and dreams collide Dancing in a rhythmic beat around me You are gone, and I am alone My power escapes, and you are ruined I cannot escape this, Guilt paralyzes me You lie with my fires searing your back I dream. I destroy. I dream of flame.  
  
***  
  
The nurse laid the poem on her desk, and looked out the window. 'She started a fire and killed someone she loved accidentally. She escaped and now hates herself. Oh God, this child is in torment!' 


	4. At the Old Grissom Theater

Robin smiled as she slipped easily into the persona of the young actress. She found that she loved the energy around the place...and there was nothing to remind of her old job, and her friends and teammates of the STN- J. She had found that she had some talent in that direction...once she overcame the limitations of her natural quietness.  
She glanced around the room, and noticed that one of the girls was having problems lighting her candle that sat on the make-up room table. Palming her lighter (which she could never get to light anyhow), she called on a thread of her craft and started the spark without a thought.  
  
Amon was wandering around the downtown area, trying to decide which of the bars looked to be the grungiest, and which he could get the most information out of the inhabitants, when he felt the slightest surge of fire-craft across town. In seconds, he was back in the rental car and entering the area of town that was at one time an air force base, now closed. He followed that bit of "intuition" he'd always had where witches were concerned, and found himself outside of a small theater that advertised the opening night of "Flowers for Algernon". He bought a ticket, and found a seat towards the middle of the auditorium. There didn't seem to be any problems from the witch yet.  
The lights darkened. In a few scenes, Charlie had been "operationed on", and had returned to the bakery. Amon found himself bored, until one clear voice cut back from the backstage area.  
"Frank? Frank! What did you do to my éclairs, Frank?" The blonde came out, carrying a box, her hair caught under one of those ridiculous baker's hats, but her piercing green eyes struck straight to his core from where he sat. Those eyes, that voice...Robin was alive?  
Breathles, he watched the rest of the scene, and the two others with the baker "Jo". A few scenes later, she silently reappeared looking like any other denim wearing teenager during the concert. He missed most of the rest of the show until intermission, his mind blank in shock. How could she be alive, much less this vibrant, believable actress? And why wasn't she in some large theater company where this talent could show, not in this tiny auditorium. As soon as the lights came back up, he grabbed for the program and scanned it. She would reappear in one scene in the second act. For some reason, his heart contracted painfully as he thought of the sight of her on that stage...  
He was numb, his mind working feverishly, but again all mental activity stopped when she reappeared. Her hair was loosely curled and hung around her face, and the light green gown she wore enhanced her eyes. She was beautiful.  
After the show, he was glued to the seat as he contemplated what he had just seen. Robin was the craft user, and didn't know that the STN-J could track her even here. She spoke flawless English, and, to be quite honest with himself, she was the most attractive woman he had ever seen. He could hear the cast in the hall, greeting those who had come to see the show. He stayed still until the noise receded and he could tell the actors had left for their dressing rooms. He rose and slipped out, waiting for her in the parking lot. When Robin appeared and slipped into her car, he followed at a discreet distance... 


	5. Reunion

Amon sighed as he pulled into the small parking space a good hour after Robin had returned home. He knew he was overly cautious sometimes, but he knew she was almost as observant as he was, and if it hadn't been for the overly strong stage lighting, he bet she would have seen him.  
The apartment was dark, and Amon figured that she must have gone to bed. For a brief moment, he wondered how she was managing to pay for rent, food, and school, but slipped it from his mind. Inconsequential.  
He wanted to see her. He wanted to go up to the door and knock. He shook his head. He would only check on her living conditions and approach her in the morning. She would be more alert and reasonable then. He didn't want to face the shock she would have upon opening the door to a dead man in the middle of the night.  
He glanced around. This seemed to be a very bad neighborhood, but the apartment seemed to be of about medium size. He slipped up the stairs, and a few moments later had the lock open. A soft touch brushed his ankle, and he whipped out his orbo gun, before realizing it was a kitten. His lips twisted into an almost-smile. 'Trust Robin to be sentimental enough to take in stray hairballs,' he thought. He went through the apartment.  
He was appalled before realizing that this was probably the best a high school aged girl could get living on her own with (presumably) a part time job. The gas was out. A grungy hot plate sat on the stove, and there was no hot water. There was a patched hole in the ceiling, and there was almost no walking space, let alone storage. The plumbing and electricity (judging from the wires sticking out from all of the walls) were shot. The idea of Robin taking cold showers and trying to get a hot plate (which always either doesn't get hot enough or burns everything in two seconds) to work made him go cold. He was the one meant for hard living conditions and shacks, not Robin! In comparison, his bachelor flat was luxurious!  
He slipped silently into the doorway of Robin's room to check in on her, and really did smile at the sight of the kitten batting lightly at her nose to wake her up. Robin twisted in her sleep on the pile of blankets on the floor. At first he thought she was trying to avoid the ministrations of the cat, but then he noticed the fact that she was shaking and whimpering. Before he realized what he was doing, he crossed the room and slipped an arm under her shoulders, gently whispering her name, trying to wake her.  
"Robin. It's all right. You're safe. You're all right. We're all right."  
  
Robin dreams of fire slowly melted away, turning into a dream in which Amon was alive. He sat next to her, gentling her, holding her, chasing away all of her fears. Gently, his lips pressed hers, so lightly that she barely felt them. Vaguely, she drifted all night; never sure whether what she dreamed was in fact reality. The next morning, she stretched as she awoke, smiling at her dreams. She had felt comforted, and despite the fact that they weren't real... Her arm encountered something firm, unyielding. She opened her eyes to see Amon sitting cross-legged beside the pallet studying her, while Eve curled up to sleep on his lap. She stared, not daring to believe what her eyes told her. Amon gravely moved the cat and said in his usual calm voice, "Good morning, Robin." "You're alive!" She cried, sitting up abruptly and flinging herself at him. Her tears came again, tears of joy. Her heart nearly burst as his arms closed gently around her, this time in a true embrace and not to tie his coat around her. She looked up into his face, and for once there was an expression there; wonderment. He held her more tightly, and said in a thick voice, "Of course I'm alive. I was more worried about you. The last time I saw you, you were in the center of an explosion. I thought I had killed you." "Amon..." She wasn't quite sure what she was trying to say. She was beginning to realize that she had thrown herself at her mentor, who was ten years her senior. He shook his head, and then slowly, as if unsure of himself (which would be a first for Amon), he lowered his lips to meet hers. 


	6. Conversation and Confession

Robin was more than slightly surprised when Amon pulled away. Not giving her (or perhaps himself) a chance to react, he rose and slipped out of the room. Robin followed, pulling on a robe, to find him pulling a carton of eggs and butter out of the refrigerator. As she watched in surprise, the older hunter melted said butter and proceeded to fry eggs, taking time away from the hot plate only to pop some toast into the toaster and reheat the coffee left over in her pot. Per usual, all was done in silence. She shook her head, amused at the almost domestic scene she was involved in, and began to set the table for the two of them.  
Over her breakfast, she couldn't take the suspense any longer. "Amon, how did you find me? What happened? What's going on these days?"  
He swallowed, took a sip of coffee, then answered,  
"I was found in a small air pocket after the roof collapsed inward. I survived and spent the last year in the hospital recovering from burns, and returned to work a couple of days ago. I was assigned to find the young fire-craft user in a small town in the Midwestern US."  
Her eyes widened at the implication that she had been tracked so easily to the other side of the world by the STN-J, simply by using her gift to light a candle once in a while. He continued,  
"I went to the theater last night when I felt you use your craft. You perform well. I followed you home, and entered last night after you had gone to bed. Your pet led me rather unerringly to your side."  
"Some watch cat you are, Eve." She muttered, tipping a bit of her egg into the cat bowl by her chair.  
"Our friends are all right. As to what seems to be going on in the organization, Solomon has ordered that the Factory be rebuilt, there is a man hunt for you, and I will soon join that list."  
"Why would you?"  
For the briefest moment, Robin felt the stir of a breeze near her ear, and would have sworn that the whisper came from Amon, had she seen that his lips hadn't moved.  
"I am a wind-craft."  
Robin stared at him in amazement, and then finding nothing else to say, murmured,  
"I never knew."  
"I hate witches: I was abandoned by one. My power has never done me any good, only brought me trouble. It didn't help me when I needed it most."  
"To save yourself in the Factory?"  
"No. To save you, Robin."  
Her eyes registered wonder at what seemed to be implied in that simple statement. He took that as his cue to continue, and said very simply,  
"When I thought you were dead, I realized that my life wasn't worth anything without you."  
Robin stared at him in shock. Before either of them realized they had moved, they stood and wrapped their arms around each other. "You can't stay here. You're in danger, and I'm a hunter. Leave. I'll report a failure." He told her.  
"Amon, don't leave me like this..."  
"I can't support you. The organization would find you."  
"I'm fire craft. You're wind craft. Fire puts out a heat wind, and wind fuels fire. Our abilities complement each other. We were a good partnership."  
He looked down at her, and then made up his mind. "You always did want to travel." He told her. Amon pulled back, picked up the kitten, and slipped it into his pocket.  
"Dress fast."  
A few moments later, Robin was back at his side, hair up, dress on, and she was pulling on her black trench coat. The only thing missing were the old leather gloves. A pair of sunglasses rested on the top of her head. Amon openly smiled for the first time. That year of separation seemed to have never happened. He put the kitten into her arms, and led her out the door to his car.  
  
I promise it's not done yet. In fact, you still have another chapter and the epilogue yet. 


	7. Returning

Robin could feel her rage rising as she stared at the man who twiddled the switch between his hands. "You'd like to kill me, wouldn't you little Robin?" He asked. "And all for one who betrayed you. How long have you shared Amon's bed?"  
The power behind her eyes, trapped in her skin was unbearable. It broke free of her bindings, as she shouted her rage aloud to the world...  
The man before her went up in flame.   
  
"Robin!" Amon's hand gripped her shoulder as she flailed upright in her bed. She looked up at the man, and tried to keep from clinging to him.  
"I'm sorry," She said, realizing her screams must have brought him from the room across the hall.  
"I was up anyway. It's five." He told her. "The same dream?"  
She shook her head, and he looked at her a moment, then said in a surprisingly gentle voice,  
"You are not a precognitive to my knowledge. I have tested you for all the crafts. Besides fire and witch-sensing, the only potential I have seen is that for mind speech, which you have not manifested."  
She nodded, and his hand released her shoulder. "Meet me at the usual café tonight," He told her, and then went into the shower. She sighed. They had lived in London, Rome, Chicago, Versailles, Hong Kong, and now Paris in the past year, and she regretted the fact that both of them were usually too busy to have time for one another. Both worked, and then in the evening hunted separately. Paris was full of witches. The only time they saw one another was at night, when they met for a meal at the café down the street from their tiny apartment.  
She closed her eyes, wishing for different circumstances. She remembered the first time she had tried a solo hunt. It had been the last time that he had shown any affection towards her, beside his usual camaraderie...  
  
Robin could tell that Amon didn't want her to go alone, but both problems had to be taken care of. Silently he handed her a vial of orbo, which she accepted with a shudder. She hated the stuff, but knew he was only trying to protect her.  
"He's three blocks from the cathedral," He told her. She nodded and ran off, before he could say anymore.  
The witch was stronger than she had anticipated. She was weary, and couldn't summon the strength to use her craft, and flinched back, holding her orbo.  
A well-placed attack shattered the vial, and the sticky green fluid splashed all over her body. She screamed in agony, fire racing through her body, destroying her from the inside. Vaguely, as she mercifully fainted, she heard Amon's voice in a full-throated roar of fury.  
She revived in the Roman hospital a week and a half later. A haggard looking Amon swept her into his arms, murmuring in her native Italian,  
"I thought you had died on me, Little Bird..."  
  
She heard the bathroom door open, and went to use the shower. As a bare-chested, wet Amon passed her, he said in a low voice in Italian,  
"I worry about you, Little Bird. I do care about you."  
  
Robin slid wearily into the bench across from Amon, and smiled as she noticed his nostrils flare as he ensured that there was no more scent on her of orbo.  
"I'm fine, Amon!" She assured him. He frowned slightly as he noticed her weariness and remembered the incident in question. She reached across the table and took his hand. Hesitantly, as if unsure of her reaction, as well as his own actions, he leaned across the table as if to kiss her.  
Amon's communicator went off.  
He muttered something uncomplimentary in Japanese, too low for her to catch, and answered it, releasing her hand.  
"What is it, Michael?"  
"It is you! You're alive! I thought the Boss Man upstairs was playing an April's Fool joke on me!"  
"Get to the point."  
"He said that he wanted you home right away." Michael looked confused. "His exact words were 'tell Amon his French vacation is over', whatever that means."  
Amon didn't bother to reply. He shut off the communicator, and turned to Robin.  
"I'll be back in a few days."  
"I'm coming with you, Amon."  
"No, Robin."  
"We're a team. Fire creates a hot breeze, and air feeds a fire. Besides," She said, gently manipulating Amon. "The safest place for me is at your side."  
"You're being sentimental, Robin. There is no place for sentimentality in the organization."  
She looked at him in mute appeal. Finally, he sighed and led her back to the apartment. She handed him the orbo gun, as he caught Evening by the scruff of the neck and dropped her into Robin's pocket.  
  
A slim figure slipped down the halls of the STN-J office as her masculine partner openly walked upstairs into the offices on the higher levels. She paused, breathing in the old scents, and typed in the old security password she had learned so well in her days as a member of the hunting team.  
The door slipped open without the slightest resistance. Michael, without turning around, commented,  
"We didn't expect you for several more hours, Amon my man."  
"Amon is upstairs with the head of the organization, Michael. How have you been?"  
The donut Michael held between his lips fell as his jaws snapped open in surprise. Before the treat he had been eating (or the box of donuts he knocked over in his haste) hit the floor, he had crossed the room and tackled Robin. Her breast pocket squeaked.  
"Umm, Robin?" Dojima said, entering the room, hiding her delight behind her ditzy-ness. "Those are some weird implants. They squeaked."  
Blushing, Robin pulled out an indignant kitten. Evening yowled at the sight of the two strangers, and Dojima squealed,  
"Aw! She's so cute! Can I hold her?"  
Sakaki and Karasuma had been ignoring the discussion, for some reason.  
"It's a pleasure to see you after a two year separation as well, Dojima." Robin said in her normal polite tones. At that show of courtesy, Sakaki's Game Boy went over his shoulder, and Karasuma broke her spare scrying mirror (which she used in an attempt to see whether she could use some of the other culture's methods). Both tackled a bemused Robin, crying greetings.  
"It really is you!" Sakaki said. "We thought you were another one of those imposters Dojima brings in to cheer us up when she thinks that we've been getting too gloomy. The fake Amon backfired. We nearly lynched the guy."  
At that precise moment, Amon walked through the office door. "Robin, the boss wants to see you in his offices immediately. Alone."  
As the others gasped in shock, Robin walked across the room to him. She handed him Evening, and he slipped his orbo gun into her pocket. She stepped around him into the elevator, and was gone.  
  
Robin stood nervously outside the door that had shaped the past two years of her life. Two years ago, she had stood here eavesdropping; trying to make sure Amon was all right, only to hear the order to end her life. She took a deep breath and entered the room.  
Solomon looked up, and motioned for her to close the door behind her. She walked to a point near the desk, and looked at the founder of the Agency of Solomon, the creator of the STN-J, and the mastermind behind the Factory.  
"You've lead us on a merry chase, little Robin." Solomon told her. "I assume you returned for a reason?"  
"I have questions. Why kill me? Why rebuild the Factory?"  
"What do you think this organization is for?"  
"To hunt witches. To ensure that there is no danger from them."  
"Precisely. You are a witch, Robin. You are a danger, as is the man who has protected you for the past year. The Factory is our means to that end."  
"How? The Factory is evil! It should never have been rebuilt!"  
"You have told me that you believe that the Factory is necessary."  
"No!" Robin said, her voice rising in passion. "I believe that the witches are a danger, if they are untrained. The Factory is cruel. I was in there. I know what orbo does. I believe that the witches need to be put out of their misery, but those experiments were wrong. The most humane is orbo, and I cannot describe an agony worse than having it splashed on one's arm. Injecting it into the bloodstream is inhumane. How are the developers of the orbo any better than the witches who kill for pleasure? How can seeing how large of a dose a witch can take before they dry from the inside out in agony be anything but cruelty? I am trained. I am a witch, and so, I might remind you, is Amon, the most loyal member of this organization." She could feel her craft using, and brought it back to bay. 'No! I am in control!' She thought desperately.  
"The traitor, yes."  
"How can he be a traitor to you?"  
To Robin's surprise, Solomon laughed. "Yes, Amon. Angelic Amon. The one who betrayed not only the organization, but also you my dear. He played Judas to you twice."  
"That's impossible!" Robin gasped.  
"No, it is quite possible, my dear. He betrayed us by not only refusing to kill a witch, but also by harboring you after that order was flaunted. As to you, girl, he not only gave us the proof that you destroyed Factory, but also gave to us the DNA pattern that we can trace to you, no matter where in the world you are. Little Robin, you are the perfect agent. You have always stayed true by the agency. The turncoat must die." Solomon held up a tiny switch. "Do you see this? A bio bomb is implanted not three millimeters from his heart. Give me the least provocation, and he dies."  
Robin could feel her rage rising as she stared at the man who twiddled the switch between his hands. "You'd like to kill me, wouldn't you little Robin?" He asked. "And all for one who betrayed you. How long have you shared Amon's bed?"  
The power behind her eyes, trapped in her skin was unbearable. Coldly, she drew Amon's orbo gun from her pocket and trained it on the man behind the desk. He gave a horrible chuckle.  
"Do you really think you can pull that trigger before I can push the tiny button on this remote? Behave, or your lover dies, my dear."  
Her craft was agony as it poured through her veins. It broke free of her bindings, as she shouted her rage aloud to the world. In one swift move, the gun was cocked and the trigger pulled. The gunshot rang throughout the building as her fire craft poured through her body, and out to some target she couldn't see. She walked across the room and addressed Solomon's corpse.  
"Amon changed the spring yesterday. There is no weapon in the world faster than this orbo gun."  
Solomon's aide crashed through the door, yelling,  
"Sir! Sir! The Factory has just combusted! All personnel were burnt alive!"  
He stopped, staring at the slim girl with the fear written across her face. She dropped the gun like a hot coal as Amon ran through the door. Robin covered her face with a convulsive sob. Amon rushed to catch her as she collapsed, overcome at having killed.  
The other team members ran into the room, Dojima holding the kitten. They stopped dead at the sight of Amon gently rocking Robin, murmuring,  
"You're safe. It's over. Everything will be all right. My Robin. My poor Little Bird." 


	8. Epilogue

Robin stretched, looked at the clock, and smiled to see that it was quitting time. She hadn't particularly wanted to work on her eighteenth birthday, but she had a sense of duty, and after all, Amon would be in the office all day. She never had told him the day upon which she celebrated her birth.  
"Robin?" Dojima asked. "That's a gorgeous diamond. Where did you get it? When did you get it?"  
Robin looked up as if she had been startled by the question. "Oh, this? I thought Amon was going to explain." She said, lying teasingly as she glanced across the room at her (still secret) lover. Amon snorted and looked up at the clock. He gently moved the cat, which had become a mascot of sorts and now stayed at the office from his lap, and met Robin as she came across the room to meet him. The two of them scandalized everyone in the room as Amon slipped his arm around Robin's waist and kissed her. He turned the Dojima and said quite calmly,  
"My wife and I will be taking a couple of weeks off so that we can enjoy a honeymoon."  
And with that simple, shocking statement, he led her out the door, his arm firmly still around her waist.  
  
She began to sigh with resignation as she felt the burning sensation take her mind. Absently, she wondered whether she would dream tonight of the first Factory fire, the bio bomb exploding (Amon had it removed! she reminded her subconscious), shooting Solomon, or the victims of the second Factory fire she had caused.  
She rolled over in her sleep and smiled as her nose filled with Amon's scent. The pressure filed away as instead she felt warm lips on her own, and a hotter body pressing tightly to hers. His mouth trailed down her neck, across her shoulder blade, lower yet, as his hands passed freely over her body...  
  
Robin awoke smiling, and her eyes were drawn to the sunrise that was visible through a crack in the curtain. It blazed brightly, a fire of new hope lighting up the sky. Her head was pillowed on Amon's shoulder, and she moved slightly to look at him. His eyes met her own, and he gently kissed her forehead.  
"Still dreaming of fire, Little Bird?" He asked. She rolled to face him completely, holding him near. Gently, he massaged her shoulder blades and back. She sighed happily,  
"Yes, Amon. Our fire." 


End file.
